Tomorrow Belongs to Me
by mumbling mice
Summary: Young Albus Dumbledore returns to Godric's Hollow to care for his sister, and meets someone who changes his life. Pardon the dreadful description. Dumbledore/Grindelwald.
1. How Sweet The Sound

Nature's music sweetly treated the ear on the window. A sparrow sang a sprightly tune and it almost seemed like the ear twitched in excitement. Then it shifted, and what was now pressed against the attic window was a girl who was physically in the awkward stage of early adulthood, but the expression on her face was pure, childish innocence. She sat alone in an a wooden chair that had been pushed up right against the only window in an empty attic.

Salty wetness smudged the window as she watched the bird; the girl had been crying. But as she smiled at the hopping sparrow her hiccups began to subside. She even started to chuckle as the little bird hopped closer and closer to her attic window.

The girl's heart jumped and she shrieked at a loud noise behind her. A jet of red fire spurted from her ears as she cried, but a reassuring voice settled the blaze to smoke.

"Ariana," cooed a voice as hands rested on her shivering shoulders. "It's alright. Just the door."

Ariana jerked her neck up to look at her older brother, who nearly mirrored her appearance with the same blonde hair and long nose. She snaked her own hand up to his and squeezed it, intently staring at him as her chest began to heave sobs. She forgot the sweet sparrow, which had long flown away.

"I'm s-sorry!" she screamed, burying her face into her brother's stomach. As she threw herself at him the chair toppled over, and as did she. Her knees were at the floor and she sat as a crumpled mess, clinging to her brother's knees. "Oh, A-Abe," she gurgled hysterically, a careless line of pit running down her chin. "Abe, I'm so bad. I'm so bad."

Behind her, the chair quivered, and then flew into the air. It zoomed across the room and smashed into the wall with so much force that one of the legs broke off, and the entire thing clattered to the floor.

Aberforth crouched down and stroked his sister's sticky blonde hair gently. "It's alright, Ari," he murmured, embracing her tightly. "Everything is going to be alright, I promise."

"I-I'm so bad, Abe," Ariana whispered, squeezing her eyes closed as if she were afraid to open them. "You all hate me; you all hate me so much… Mama…"

"I don't hate you."

"Al hates me."

"Al hates everything that isn't grand enough for his liking," Abe smirked. Ariana shuddered and Aberforth could hear the chair twitch over his shoulder.

"Stop, now. Let's just get you to bed," he said. "Before you start making it snow in here. I'll just… I'll just make you some tea."

Two floors below, down in the kitchen, another young man sat at a table, rubbing his eyes anxiously. He was older than the other two, and looked far different. Whereas they had stringy blonde hair, his was thick and dark red, and he wore a pair of small, wire-framed spectacles.

He sat stiffly in his chair, drumming his long fingers against the table nervously. In truth, he was at loss for what to do. Behind him lay something he did not want to look at, for the mere thought made the pit of his stomach turn sour.

A pair of feet shuffled into the kitchen, but he didn't look.

"Albus, I-I'm making some tea. For Ariana," explained Aberforth, who pointedly avoided looking at the sheet-covered figure sprawled on the floor.

"I'll do it," Albus sighed. He leaned back and pulled a long, thin black wand from the depths of his robes. With a flick the teapot flew from the shelf it was sitting on and hovered over the small fire. "_Aguamenti_," he said, and the teapot joggled with its added weight in water.

"Thank you, Albus," Aberforth said. He stood by the fireplace and watched the teapot slowly spin over the crackling embers.

"Mm," his brother responded, inspecting his wand idly. He tilted his head to the side and his eyes traced the intricate design engraved in its holly wood.

"Albus," Aberforth ventured uneasily. "About mother…" He watched the back of his brother's head stop tilting. Albus stayed still for a tense moment, as if he had found something curious etched in his wand that he hadn't noticed before. Abe held his breath.

Then Albus tilted his head to the side again and said, "What about her?"

"Well… what are we going to do?" Abe swallowed nervously and took a brave glance at the covered body on the ground. The very idea that underneath that sheet were his mother's unblinking eyes, once alive; underneath was a warm heart that stopped beating; the very idea that underneath that sheet was the cold, unmoving, pale body of his mother made his mind numb and chills scurry down his spine.

Aberforth looked away and stared at his feet.

"Bury her, I suppose," Albus set his wand down, "in the garden. I'll be damned if we let her near any of those Muggle grave sites."

"There aren't many Muggles in Godric's Hollow," Aberforth said.

"Not yet."


	2. Hello Darkness

"Funny," said Bathilda as she cast an invisible tarp over the four of them, "they say April showers bring May flowers, but it's late June and still raining."

Ariana looked up and saw drops of water coming down hard, falling swiftly. She got the sudden urge to flinch but they never reached her; instead the shield stopped them and they rolled down. A terrible feeling nagged her chest; if only she could produce that type of magic. If only she could perform it properly. If only she wasn't a freak that ashamed the whole family—

"Shall we say a few words then?" Bathilda asked. She was a stout, eccentric old woman with an astounding memory. She was normally pleasant, and even on such a dreary day, on such a dismal occasion, she still managed to hold a light hint of a grin on her wrinkled face.

"Please do," Albus said curtly. The grave itself had already been dug by jinxing the spade, and now the pine box coffin, decorated with a rose design that trickled up the side and spilled over the lid, lay on the wet soil. Drops of wet dirt stained the top of the light colored piece.

Ariana squirmed uncomfortably. She didn't like the idea of her Mama being stuck in the ground. She didn't want her there. What if… what if she was still alive? "She'll be trapped," she whispered to herself with wide, glassy eyes.

Aberforth squeezed her hand tightly, to comfort her and to quiet her at the same time.

"Farewell, dear Kendra Dumbledore," Bathilda lamented in a loud, almost songlike tone. "You were a proud woman, a good witch, and a devoted mother."

Locked behind them within their pen, the goats began to bleat sorrowfully. Aberforth glanced at them over his shoulder and their noise died down.

"And though you may no longer be with us physically, your spirit will continue in our hearts. I will never forget afternoon tea with you. You were a gracious and intriguing woman. Goodbye, Kendra." Bathilda cleared her throat and clasped her hands, her eyebrows knotted. "Would you like to say your goodbyes?" she asked Kendra's three children.

The three stood still and stiffly, side by side, descending from Albus, the tallest, and Ariana, the shortest. Each were dressed in wrinkled brown and black, fine Sunday clothes ruined by the downpour of rain. All three stared at the grave, as if battling within their minds over who would step up first.

The youngest lost. With a trembling lip, Ariana tiptoed forward, her guilty eyes fastened on the casket below. She inched farther and farther, as if she wanted to be as close to her mother as possible, to the point were her mud stained boots were swaying on the very edge.

Her brother Aberforth watched her cautiously, clutching his wand in his back pocket in case she fell.

"Mama…" Ariana croaked hoarsely. She stared down at the casket as if expecting an answer. Her eyes filled with tears when all she heard was the sound of downpour and she clenched her teeth, and ground them back and forth.

"Mama!" she demanded in a booming, deafening shriek. Albus and Bathilda immediately clutched their ears and Aberforth moved forward to pull his sister away, "Answer me, Mama!" Lightning ripped through the sky right towards the little Dumbledore's home and shattered the invisible shield. The vicious, unceasing rain began to soak the mourners and Ariana screamed and screamed until she suddenly disappeared. Swiftly, with one misplaced boot, she had slipped down into the grave with her mother.

"Ari!" Aberforth stumbled forward, his own feet unsteady in the thick, runny mud. He sunk to his knees at the edge and peered in. Ariana sat on top of the casket, her blonde hair wet and stringy, hanging over her face. She thrust her arms toward the sky and screamed to her brother, "Abe!"

Aberforth went to extract his wand from his pocket, but before he had grasped the handle he was grabbed by his collar and pushed aside. He toppled to his back, and over him stood Albus, who effortlessly raised Ariana out of the grave and dropped her gently by Bathilda without even uttering an incantation.

Ariana whimpered and clutched Bathilda's leg; all the while Bathilda looked from Albus to the girl in bewilderment.

"The funeral," Albus announced coldly as he slipped his wand back into his jacket, "is over. Everyone get inside and out of the rain. I'll fill the hole."


	3. Falling, Yes I Am Falling

_To Mr. Elphias Doge;_

_It seems the inevitable thing I have been dreading has, of course, happened. My mother has passed away. I am afraid to inform you that I cannot travel to Greece with you, nor any other part of the continent. I have taken over my mother's duties._

_I regret my absence. Take care._

_A. P. W. B Dumbledore._

Albus swung open the lopsided wooden doorway to his home. It was a sunny afternoon, but still soaked from last night's downpour. The grass was brushed with a dewy glaze and each tree looked as if its leaves were clothes hung out to dry.

Each step he took down the muddy walkway made an unpleasant squelching noise under his boots. In his hand he clutched his letter to Elphias. He had been planning to send it. Unfortunately, he was unable to find the family owl anywhere.

A cat with its tail floating in the air tiptoed across the fence. Behind it, Aberforth was cautiously letting Ariana feed the goats.

"Look at this one," he said in a voice meant only for her ears. "Little baby. He was born only three days ago."

"Can I feed him?" Ariana stood wide-eyed and grinning with a handful of grain.

"No, he's got to just drink his mother's milk for now."

"Can I feed the mother, Abe?"

"Sure."

"Aberforth," Albus called over the fence. "Have you seen the owl?"

"Mercury?" Abe placed his hand on his hip and scratched his head curiously. "Not sure. Uh..."

One of the rowdier goats nudged Ariana's side. "Ouch," she sniffed, glaring at the goat.

Abe said, "Did you check the attic?"

"Yes, of course I checked the attic," Albus growled impatiently. "Would you assume that's the first place to check for an owl?"

"Ouch!" Ariana exclaimed. The belligerent goat had rammed her in the rear end. She turned and glared at the goat, rubbing her hindquarters heatedly.

"Did you ask Mrs. Bagshot if she might have borrowed him?" Aberforth suggested with a shrug.

"Doesn't Bathilda have her _own_ owl?" Albus sighed. He leaned against the edge of the fence tiredly. "You didn't go sending him off trying to contact friends of yours, did you?"

"No, I didn't!" Aberforth snapped. "Why must you always blame every thing that irks you on me?"

"OUCH!" Ariana shrieked. She had toppled onto the ground from a particularly forceful blow from her goat arch nemesis, and when she slammed her tiny pale fists down onto the dirt in anger, the entire fence collapsed into splintery pieces of wood.

Albus, who had been leaning on the fence, fell backwards in surprise. His glasses flew off of his face and landed somewhere amongst the overgrown grass.

"Oh, Al," Ariana gasped, covering her mouth. "I'm so sorry. You're not hurt, are you? He isn't hurt, is he, Abe?"

"I'm fine," Albus snapped. He gingerly lifted himself up, rubbed his eyes, and squinted at his brother and sister, a now very blurry pair of smudges. "Where are my glasses?" He felt in his pockets, planning to summon them. But a sinking feeling in his stomach reminded him that he had left his wand back inside, on the kitchen table.

_Fool_, he thought angrily, _you can't just go around leaving you wand for anyone to find_...

He would go inside and get the wand. It couldn't be so hard to find it on the kitchen table, could it? He had no desire to ask Aberforth or Ariana to fetch it. The notion of Ariana holding a wand seemed dangerous, and Albus had very little trust in his brother Abe. No doubt the younger boy would snap the wand in two just for kicks.

Albus, his arms outstretched, took a step forward. Then another step. And another.

Crunch. The noise could only be described as breaking glass.

Broken glasses.

How inconvenient, Albus thought as he crouched down low to pick up the shards and the frame. This could only get worse if I stepped on my wand next...

"_Oculus Reparo_."

It was a new voice that spoke. It was a different wand that made the shards in Albus's palm glow and piece themselves back together in a heartbeat.

The voice was quick and clever, and appeared to have a sort of Germanic accent (Albus couldn't be sure; he would have known better if he had gone traveling with Elphias). There was a dash of superiority to it, which typically would anger Albus, but for some reason he felt instinctively drawn to whoever was the speaker.

He slipped on his glasses and looked up. A young man, roughly about Albus's age, was sitting cross-legged on the stoop. He had wavy, golden hair, a mouth twisted up into a playful grin, and eyes that glowed with mischief.

Albus managed to sputter "Than—" before the stranger swiftly apparated into thin air.


End file.
